Letter From the Past
by Seizalyn
Summary: [Post-SH:C] Upon returning to the Inugami household five years later, Kurando and Anastasia stumble upon a letter from a certain mother and news of a certain Harmonixer. [Kurando, Anastasia, Saki, Yuri]


_Shadow Hearts: Covenant and all its characters are copyright their respective creators._

**Letter From the Past**

**WARNING: **Contains spoilers for Kurando and Anastasia's endings, and Yuri's bad ending in Shadow Hearts: Covenant.

* * *

Kurando carefully unfolded the thick white paper, breaking the dog-shaped seal of the Inugami family stamped across it. The material crinkled lightly in his hand, joining ghostly winds and cool, clouded skies in the dead of nighttime. A pair of curious blue orbs peered over his shoulder, the princess' rough bangs falling like copper shadows over her eyes. 

"Is it from Saki?" she whispered, her words ringing like cymbals against the silence around them. She was excited and nervous and was that the sound of someone waking up to check on the foolish intruders daring to invade the Inugami home?

Kurando just nodded, immediately recognising the careful brush strokes that spelled out his name. Trust his mother to prepare for his return. He could only suppose that someone - Roger, perhaps - must have informed her of what happened at the Platform. Or perhaps the Fountain of Sukune had allowed her a small glimpse of the future - his current present - during one of these four-or-so years.

Either way, he would soon find out what his mother had to say.

Positioning the letter against the small lamp on the floor, the first thing the samurai noticed was the date.

_1918._

This was an old one, but it had been laid apart from the rest. It felt important, so he had chosen it first.

Saki had known him well enough to leave the letter in his room. She had known, with that keen sense of mystifying prediction that all mothers seemed to have, and that all sons could never quite grasp, that if he ever returned from anywhere, it was always first and foremost to his room.

They were entire stacks, one from each month of each of the four years since the Platform's rising, addressed solely to him. They were laid in a careful manner, from latest to oldest, top to bottom - neat piles of unopened letters, bound together by simple black strings, waiting for their recipient to break the candle-wax seals when he finally returned.

Suddenly feeling his mouth turn dry, and unsure why he would - should - feel nervous about reading letters from his own mother, Kurando swallowed slightly before glancing further down. He was reminded of Anastasia's presence when she gently pushed for him to read it out loud to her.

"_Inumyga__ midearinuest gasonmi_... Huh?"

"Are you reading it in Japanese?" Anastasia questioned, despite the eyebrow quirked disbelievingly. That didn't sound like any Japanese she'd heard before. And she'd had plenty of lessons on the language with Kurando, much to her glee, during their boat trip from Russia to Japan.

"This... the words are completely messed up..." Kurando fumbled slightly, frowning at the letter. What was his mother up to now? And had all the letters been written in such gibberish?

"She must've been in a good mood when writing this," Anastasia quipped, pointing to the top-left corner of the paper. "Look, she even drew a little bear on it!"

"That's not a bear, it's a dog," he corrected absently. "Mother doesn't have the best artistic skills in the family... Hey, wait a minute."

Anastasia complied, tilting her head as she watched Kurando study the misshapen dog, unable to enjoy the adorable confusion on his expression due to her anxiety at this unanticipated obstacle. Perhaps she was just being silly - who would punish Kurando for returning to his own house? Never mind that they had snuck in at midnight, four years after they last left the village, without a shade of time's influence upon their features...

No, scratch that. She was being justifiably nervous.

So when the samurai uttered a sudden groan, Anastasia leaned in closer, unintentionally impatient with the object of her affections. "What is it? What?"

"It's a hint to her puzzle," Kurando sighed quietly. Yes, he should have expected this too. "She added the alphabets from 'inugami' within every word. We'll have to ignore those additions to read the letter..."

"...I know I should be surprised, but I'm not."

"This _is_ my mother we're talking about, after all."

Anastasia allowed herself a giggle, shaky and swiftly swept away by the wind, before gesturing to Kurando to start reading.

* * *

_My dearest son, _

Did you finally manage to figure out the code? He he, I thought you might have gotten bored from all these letters, so this is an interesting twist, don't you think? I went through a lot of trouble keeping myself unconfused as I wrote this, so you'd best appreciate all this effort!

"Oh, but I would never be bored of you, Mother!"

I can just see you shaking your head now, protests as flustered as ever, and perhaps, even, exasperated. Even after two years, I do not think a lot of you would have changed. Although you have grown so much since leaving on your travels... Surely, even after ten years, after twenty...

No, I'm sure that clumsiness of yours has remained.

Oh yes.

I found Yuri.

* * *

"What!" 

Any further words were muffled as Kurando's hand clamped over Anastasia's mouth firmly, the wooden walls of the Inugami home seemingly reverberating with her outburst. Crimson and sapphire eyes darted wildly amidst the darkness, both figures frozen on the futon under flickering light and shadows, as they sat and waited and listened for the sound of rushed footsteps heading towards his room.

Minutes passed, and all that filled the silence was the tap-tap-tap of a branch against the closed window glass.

"I can't believe it..." the Romanov princess gasped, hot breath flowing between the fingers covering her mouth, staring at the letter in Kurando's hand. "Talk about luck. I didn't think we'd find anyone this soon!"

Kurando released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, bringing the lamp closer as the light seemed to fade - or perhaps the darkness had simply grown, as the skies nestled further into midnight.

* * *

_Okay, I'll be honest. It was Roger who first found him. _

He calls Roger "father".

More specifically, he calls him "old man", and isn't that just like the Yuri we know!

Roger is trying very, very hard to form new ties for him. That little bundle of knowledge and mystery, scampering around in his old robe, trying to raise a son. It makes me giggle. It makes Yuri laugh. And even if we think that isn't really "Yuri", at the same time, that laughter is genuine.

I have spoken to this Yuri, watched him through the Fountain of Sukune (I've spent a lot more time there since you left... Perhaps I should just bring a futon over and move in for good. Matsunaga is such wonderful company anyway). Many times, almost every time, it feels as if I am watching a completely different person; a stranger who wears the skin of my nephew, speaking foreign words with his tongue, living and breathing under his name.

Yet the reactions, the sudden bursts of occasional idiocy and acute understanding; they cannot be anything other than a small part of his true self.

Will the old memories return on their own? Do we force them upon him? Should we?

Roger and I are both very confused at this point. It's a little strange, I'll tell you that! I think neither of us is used to not knowing what to do.

But when it comes to raising children, all parents fumble their ways through.

Yuri is in Wales. He lives with Roger, and he is happy and sad and peaceful and empty.

If you have not met him by now, perhaps you should pay him a visit - or maybe you shouldn't.

I leave that decision up to you.

* * *

"Kurando..." 

"The Mistletoe curse... it got him."

Her enthusiasm deflated so suddenly, Anastasia almost felt giddy with emptiness. Looking into Kurando's eyes, they were an unreadable vermillion, grim and dark against the dying candlelight. A thumb ran absently against the rough material, tracing out the final lines in silence. Against the yellow flame, the faint outline of brush strokes on the other side of the page eventually caught the princess' attention.

"There's something else." Turning the paper over, Kurando read the short note aloud.

* * *

_By the way._

Kurando, I know I gave you permission to take the Mumeiro with you on your travels - but that didn't mean you could keep it for two whole years! That's just too much! Didn't I tell you to bring it back after your travels?

The minute you read this, you march right back to the Dog Shrine and return that sacred artifact to your ancestors at once, young man!

Love from your wonderful mother,  
who is very respectful of her ancestors,  
and who doesn't approve of keeping ancient artifacts longer than necessary,  
Saki

* * *

"Ah..." 

"I can't believe Mother remembered," Kurando chuckled, feeling a bead of sweat running down his right temple. "Good thing we brought the Mumeiro along. Now I can return it to its rightful place, even if I am a few years too late."

"Um, we don't..." There was the sound of shuffling, and Anastasia withdrew into the darkness, sheepishly drawing little circles upon the futon. "...have it, I mean."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I kind of... sold it by accident... to pay for the ship fare... it was in the bag with everything else we sold off."

"Oh... Oh."

* * *

**_A/N:_**_ Don't you just love fics that spawn off one little idea? This one-shot grew from a little comment by Saki after Kurando gained the Mumeiro. It started off with that last P.S. in Saki's letter to Kurando... and of course, in true plot bunny fashion, the ideas divided themselves into the piece before you. As usual, comments and feedback will be greatly appreciated. _

This was rather quickly written up (compared to the usual pace I take with my fics, anyway). I love Saki to death, but I'm afraid I can't quite live up to her level of loopiness! And this is my first time writing Kurando and Anastasia, too. So, yeah, a general anxiety over this all around.


End file.
